Putting Over Spring with Heart & Sol

TowelBoy is cleaning out his closet. (Not THAT closet, silly. It’s been empty since I dressed as Boy George for the second grade talent pageant at St. Mary’s of the Divine Redeemer.) I’ve decided to give Spring a little push by talking all of the winter garb to the basement and unpacking all my shorts, trunks, and hoochie pants. It seems like eons since I’ve been able to tan my derriere on the roof deck or cruise the internet in my Family Guy boxers. I can’t wait to bust open the door to the roof deck, feng shui the patio furniture, and hoist the big gay flag high above the Strip District. The scene is heating up at Club Pittsburgh, too. And from what I hear, it’s going to be one hell of a summer…

My co-workers and I have jumped right into the season. I plan to spend the entire weekend making my yard gayer than Richard Simmons at a wrestling match. I’m planting a sea of pansies in an attempt to finally surpass my lesbian neighbors at landscaping excellence. Who would have thought two dykes from the ‘hood would have such a green thumb? (Ladies, I bow to you. The yard is always a floral delight.) Richie and Honey are on a romantic cruise in Hawaii. Don’t expect any general cleanings this weekend – Richie’s sitting on the beach sipping a fruity little drink with a miniature hula dancer on top. We’re all just praying that Honey doesn’t mix up the tanning lotion and the Crisco like he did in 2006. (In his defense, they’re both on the night stand.) Our Schwami was so caught up in Spring Fever that he hosted his very first orgy in the Club Pittsburgh shower on Tuesday night. Right on schedule, his erection appeared exactly 23 minutes after it was over. His goal for Summer 2008 is to figure out the mechanics for easy triple penetration. (And fingers don’t count.) I’m currently trying to arbitrate a settlement between Shwami and the handsome Eyal Feldman at Boy Butter Lubes. Studly entrepreneur Eyal is marketing his new Boy Butter Extreme with the slogan “You can park a car up your ass and never feel a thing!”. Obviously, Shwami feels the he should receive some sort of royalty. (In his defense, he can take the car without the desensitizing lubricant. Everyone knows desensitizing makes him hateful.) You can test that theory for yourself by picking up some Boy Butter Extreme (in the EZ Pump!) during your next visit. Patches started the Spring by getting put over. How does one get put over, you ask? Well, shortly after the Vernal Equinox, the Baroness of Bratislav and the Archduke of Stolichnaya return from their travels abroad and rent a room and a locker after a rousing homecoming soiree at Jitters. After some drunken rambling, waiver signing, and the exchange of four quarters, Patches surpasses his sales goal (putting him over!) and Spring begins. Dave marked the change of season by throwing away his gray workout shorts. These suckers have hugged his sweaty ‘nads for approximately 937 Club Pittsburgh workouts. After an equal amount of washings, they’d worn shearer than Barbara Bush’s edible Slenderalls. TowelBoy always enjoyed walking through the door on Tuesday morning to see Dave traipsing around in his sporty shorts. I was half tempted to retrieve them out of the trash and put them on Craig’s List. Unfortunately, I suspect that Walter grabbed them first. He’s very skeptical about vernal equinoxes and increasing solar radiation, and I think he needed something to keep him warm until the Dyke March in June.

Our good friends at the Delta Foundation of Pittsburgh spent the long, cold winter coming up with ways to satisfy your summer cravings. To kick off the summer, they’re bringing you SPIKE, a new twist on an old tradition. SPIKE is the new name for the big gay Memorial Day picnic. This year’s picnic is Sunday, May 25th from 12 PM to 6 PM. The celebration is making a triumphant return to the North Park Lodge. (A little editorial note: Don’t go having sex in the woods and getting your drunken asses thrown out again. Enjoy the picnic and its libations, and then bring your gentleman friend to Club Pittsburgh. We’ll leave the light on.) As always, they’ll be food, games, fun, and enough liquor to quench Liza Minelli after forty days in divorce court. (Shazam!) This year’s entertainment includes performances by musicians Cory Lee and Eric Himan.

SPIKE is just the kick off of Delta’s kick ass summer. They’ve concocted Pittsburgh’s biggest Pride celebration ever. Surpassing the excitement of last year’s Splash! and Pride in the Street is going to take an entire week of events. On Thursday, June 19th, the Boys on the Mountain will host another year of Splash!. Dry out on Friday night by joining the community for a bar crawl through Pittsburgh’s gay taverns and clubs. Don’t over indulge – Saturday is huge. The ladies will show their Pride during the Dyke March on Saturday afternoon, and Liberty Avenue will never be the same after Kimberly Locke performs at Pride in the Street on Saturday night. Pride week wraps up on Sunday afternoon with the Pride Fest and the Pride March, both making their debuts in new venues. Club Pittsburgh has some great summer plans in the works, too. In addition to events that compliment the Pride celebrations, TowelBoy is hearing rumors of porn stars and foam parties. I promise to keep you posted! For more information on the Delta Foundation of Pittsburgh, SPIKE, and the Pride events, please visit these great websites:

PittsburghPrideSpace.com
Myspace.com/deltafoundationpgh

Before I continue with my Spring cleaning, I have a few schizophrenic fancies floating through my head. I’ve rambled ad nauseam about hook up qualifiers in my last few posts. I’ve been annoyed by something lately that isn’t exactly a qualifier but fits with the discussion. It’s the “future plans hook up”. This drives me absolutely insane. I’m sure you’ve all seen the queens online who are coming to Pittsburgh three weeks from Tuesday and would like a blow job and some cuddling. That’s great, but I’m sitting at the computer hoping for gratification before the ten o’clock news. When you have blue balls now, it’s really hard to focus on your sexual itinerary for the distant future. Then there are the guys who chat you up, get you all hot & bothered, and then boo hoo that it’s too late to meet. Of course, he’s totally interested and would love to meet in the future. Is it just me, or does that make you want to sue Manhunt for mental anguish? That’s the nice thing about Club Pittsburgh – instant gratification is the nature of the business.

There is one man that I would gladly clear my calendar to meet three weeks from Tuesday: Hot House stud muffin Dominic Sol. Admittedly, I have a long list of imaginary porn star husbands whose affections have disappeared in the crevices of my mind. Jason Hawke, Jason Ridge, the porn monkey, Colby Taylor, Mike Roberts, etc., etc. But I have never felt as strongly as I do about Dominic Sol. I would give up an opportunity to be the naked tour guide at Point Park University freshman orientation for one encounter with this Hot House hunk. For now, I’ll have to settle for his soulful glances in the “Verboten” videos, now playing at Club Pittsburgh.

And last but not least, I’ve figured out how to work the mailing list. All of you who joined the online community should be receiving emails from me. If you haven’t joined, what the hell is your problem? Joining the Club Pittsburgh online community is a great way to get cool deals and inside information. Be the first to know which hot porn star is coming to visit, what awesome new product we’re stocking in the gift shop, and when your favorite amenity is closed for repairs. If you were on the list, you’d already know that the showers will be closed on Friday morning while we install brand new hot water heaters. And you’ll be the first to know when we have tickets for those great events, too. Just go to the “Community” section of the website and follow the instructions.

Okay, I’m done. I shall return to ironing my hoochie pants. Don’t forget to join our online community, and definitely check out the Delta Foundation of Pittsburgh websites!

Your warm weather warrior,
TowelBoy

Light Sabres, Cash Machines, and Queenly Correspondence

TowelBoy is still recovering from a very exciting weekend at Club Pittsburgh. After rough weather brought several quiet weekends in February and early March, warmer temperatures and the red hot Lex Sabre made the tubs Pittsburgh’s hot spot over the weekend. I was glad to see a lot of friendly faces out of hibernation and back in towels. And I saw a lot of new hotties, too! It was hard to notice Pittsburgh’s finest running around in the buff with Lex traipsing past my window in his little green skivvies. TowelBoy is easily distracted by a handsome Latino gentleman with bedroom eyes. (I once got myself in a whole lot of trouble over a handsome lad that was a dead ringer for Mr. Enrique Iglesias. Apparently you can run, you can hide, but you can’t escape the bottomless hole of zero stimulation. But I digress.) I thought Lex was cute in the posters, but as with most of the porn stars that have performed at the club over the years, he was much more spectacular in person. His short stature (I’m guessing 5’3” or so) doubles his “adorable”. The fact that he’s so short makes his member seem even more monstrous. (No offense, Michael Brandon.) I am not a size queen, but even Helen Keller would get whiplash when that wondrous whopper passed by. Admittedly, we’d make an odd couple: He’s about 5’3”, and I’m about 6’4”. Don’t worry, Lex – I don’t discriminate.

If you missed Lex Sabre, you can check out some photos on the gallery page of the website. And may I ask – why the hell did you miss Lex Sabre? A hot stud missing a porn performance at Club Pittsburgh is like the paparazzi missing Britney on a bender. It just shouldn’t happen.

Now that I’ve cyber-slobbered all over Lex Sabre, I’m going to do some jumping around. I have a dozens of very important messages and no mental organization. Plus I get paid by the word, and it’s time to refill my Risperidone. (Mental health is not cheap, my friends.) So hold on to your Abercrombie chapeau…

My boss and I are extremely impressed that so many of you have joined Club Pittsburgh’s online community. So far, the response has far exceeded our expectations. We’re enthused that you’re enthused, and we’re hoping to send a special “thank you” your way soon. Unfortunately, TowelBoy threw that application for ITT Tech in the trash can way back in the live-it-up 90s, and he’s having some technical problems managing the mailing list. My degree in Theater is absolutely useless when it comes to high level glitches and Microsoft Vista. (I am, however, a fucking genius at improvisational pantomime. Stick that in your zip drive, Bill Gates.) I did have a breakthrough yesterday when I was able to upload the Lex Sabre photos to the website without texting Tech Guy. I’m sure mastery of the mailing list is imminent. If you have not already joined, now’s a great time: You’ll get to laugh with me (honestly, at me) when I finally figure it out. Just go to the online community page for more information. Or you can email me directly:

community@clubpittsburgh.com

Okay, next topic. I was speaking with Leo, Club Pittsburgh’s sprightly PR guy, and he reminded me of a great qualifier. (What’s a “qualifier”? See the last blog entry.) Awkwardly, there is no way to be politically correct about this: it’s the “rape me” fantasy. A lot of guys won’t agree to meet unless you promise you’ll play rough. Although this is an abhorrent thought to Meredith Baxter and the Lifetime TV network, there are tons of gay men out there that fantasize about someone ravaging them carnally (seemingly) against their will. Countless times, potential gentleman callers have asked TowelBoy to sneak in their windows (no shit!) and “force” his love upon them. Recently, a trick asked Leo to let himself in through an unlocked door and storm into his bedroom like Rummy into Baghdad. (Only Leo and his Manhunt Online Spiritual Adviser know if he actually agreed to this. Always a proper companion, he doesn’t kiss & tell.) I will admit that I have conceded to this particular qualifier in the past. Let me offer a few bits of advice: First, don’t cry to me when you’re explaining this whacky fantasy to Commander Maurita Byant and the entire Zone 3 police force. (Or your trick’s 92 year old incontinent neighbor, Dementia Helen.) Second, it’s good to have a code word to break the scene if it gets too intense. Remember, you’re not actually assaulting anyone – it’s just a game. With all the “oh, no’s” floating around, it’s hard to tell when his fantasy is becoming a nightmare. Choose a word or phrase that isn’t “no”, or sexually related, that is a signal to stop. A lot of folks into S&M and other rough fetishes call this the “safe word”. My safe word is “Laura Bush”. You can steal mine or choose your own – just make sure the two of you work it out in advance.

Ready for another totally unrelated, rambling thought? (Now I know what it’s like to be Mel Gibson. I will stop making fun of anti-Semitic fundamentalist nutbag substance abusers immediately.) Club Pittsburgh now has an ATM machine at the front desk. You can no longer give me the excuse that you don’t have enough money to rent a locker. Use the machine to pay your rental fees, get cash to buy poppers or a douche ball from the gift shop, or grab a few bucks for Mickey D’s on the way home. Please be aware that there is a $2 surcharge to withdraw cash from the machine. (No word on where the surcharge is going, but I’m hoping that it’s sending a tranny to summer camp.) The machine has a bright fluorescent light that says “ATM” – you can’t miss it! For an additional $2, you can enter the pool to guess what date the bright fluorescent light will give Patches a seizure. The winner gets to come and take pictures.

Onto the next (and perhaps final) incoherent piece of wit. Whether you called him Scott, Esta, or just plain QUEEN, many of you enjoyed the wit, charm, and big heart of our friend and co-worker over the years. There has been a serious lack of entertainment since the queen high-tailed it to Tampa at the end of January. Oh, how I long for the days of benefit pageants, immigrant sidekicks, and that Lying Bastard from Hunker. Scott has been kind enough to keep us posted on his Florida adventures. I’m pleased to report that both Esta La Mierda and the Sunshine State have survived the Royal Invasion. But don’t take my word for it – check out this update from Esta:

Well, it’s been 8 weeks since we arrived here in beautiful, sunny Tampa, Florida. Wow! How the time flies! Walt and I are still trying to settle into our new apartment and get it “gayified” to my liking. But since we’re both working full-time now, it seems like there aren’t enough hours in one day to do everything. But a wise man once said Rome wasn’t built in a day, so I’m trying to be patient. I’ve been back working dialysis for 7 weeks now, and on my fourth day of work I got a promotion to lab coordinator. Basically, it’s just 5 more computer password security codes, lots more work, and a few greenbacks. But you can’t give a queen too much money, because then she goes and buys a new car. From Drag Wagon, to the Pimp Mobile, to a candy-apple red Chrysler Sebring 5-speed. It’s sooooooooo me!!

The past week has been particularly busy considering that Walt and I have been nursing the neighbor’s 8 week old Pitt Bull/Beagle puppy back to health. He wasn’t eating, had chronic diarrhea, and was spitting up blood. Since the neighbor lady could not afford to take the dog to the hospital, my motherly instincts kicked in and I began calling all the vets and clinics in Tampa to see if we could get him some help before it was too late. Fortunately, we did find a place very close to us and took him to see the vet again. $142 later, he’s on medication and back to his old self.

To say I’m not homesick would be a blatant lie. I miss each and every one of you and think about you all the time. My heart aches at times to be with my Club Pittsburgh family again. And I miss each and every patron that I know by name. I think of you guys too, especially on Sundays when my mind goes back to all the fun times I had working the 3-11 shift. Sometimes it’s hard to think about all the fun with all the friends and family I miss and not shed tears.

I must say I love living in Florida. It’s so much better with nice weather all the time…I couldn’t have imagined when I was putting on a hat and gloves to head out to work! Now sometimes even scrubs are hot at 5 in the morning. LOL. I’m not complaining!

I kinda miss fraternizing at the local “watering holes” as well as the local “glory holes”. LOL. But since we’ve moved down here, we’ve only gone out to the clubs a few times. I guess moving here was a big change for all involved. We are spending much more quality time together and working on our relationship. And even though he may get upset about telling his business, Walt is doing wonderfully!

It bears repeating that I miss each and every staff member and patron from the Pittsburgh tubs. I can’t wait to come back home and visit all of you. Now before I go from Weaverella to Weeperella, I just want to say that I love you all and can’t wait to reunite with my “family” in Pittsburgh. No matter where we end up, Pittsburgh will always be home.

Luv you much,
Esta

Now TowelBoy is weepier than Elliot Spitzer at a chastity pledge. Perhaps this is a good place to end. We miss you too, Queen! Visit us soon – we’ll keep the kettle on.

Don’t be touching my weave,
TowelBoy

The Qualifier

TowelBoy finds hook-up qualifiers more annoying than a ‘Suzanne Somers Salutes Our Troops’ television special. What is a qualifier, you may ask? A qualifier is my word for some ridiculous requirement or condition that obliterates a potential hook-up. I’m sure this has happened to you before. You’re talking to a hot guy at the bar, online, or even at Club Pittsburgh. There’s definitely some chemistry happening. You’re fascinated with his eyes; he can’t take his eyes off of your package. You both enjoy stuffed-crust pizza, the Oxygen network, and analingus. But just when you’re about to seal the deal, you get pummeled by the qualifier: He’s only interested in guys under 30. (You’re 32) He’ll only go home with a guy that’s “straight-acting”. (Your bedroom shelves are littered with crowns and titles.) Unfortunately, he’s only into smooth guys. (You have three hairs growing around each nipple, and you’ve never had a bikini wax.) He can only have sex if his friend Tina comes along. (And you believe Whitney – crack is whack.) Or the most common and disturbing of the qualifiers, he only likes it bare. (And you, on the other hand, enjoy not having a chronic illness.) TowelBoy has had many fantasies annihilated by an unexpected qualifier. Much like social diseases, new qualifiers keep popping up all the time. Let’s look at some of my frustrating favorites…

AGE. This one never ceases to amaze me. I’ll get an instant message from HngTwink22, or a cute blonde with amazing brown eyes starts cruising me at the tubs. He compliments my smile and my eyes. He lives just a few blocks away. Then he asks how old I am, and I’m stubbornly honest. And then the conversation ends. “You’re hot, but I’m only interested in guys under 30.” My face may say 27, but my driver’s license says 32. Apparently, it’s just me and my hand tonight. Now call Alanis, because this is ironic: I could have said that I’m 27, he would have bought it, and we would have shared a delightful tryst. I get no points for honesty. Working as an attendant at the front desk at Club Pittsburgh, I have held the driver’s license of just about every homo in the tri-state area in my hand. I am like Rain Man when it comes to remembering insignificant information, like the birthdates of 5000 CP patrons. So somebody turns me down because I tell them I’m 32 and runs off with HotButt28, who claims to be 28. Only I’ve seen Mr. HotButt’s ID, and I know that he hasn’t been 28 since the first George Bush was in the White House. Go figure.

MASCULINE/FEMININE. As a teenager, two of my closest friends were Brandi and Alicia. The two girls were cousins, and they were extremely competitive. Both girls are black. Many delightful afternoons turned dismal when the girls would start sparring over which had darker skin. Apparently, lighter skin is more socially acceptable than dark skin. Both girls are extremely beautiful. And both are ethnically black, regardless of their skin tone. I never understood why it was relevant that one girl was “blacker” than the other. I always thought they should celebrate their human link instead of trying to manufacture a divisive difference. I think of their argument each time some internet queen makes an issue over masculine/feminine. For me, it’s an argument about who is “gayer”. Does it really matter? TowelBoy says that if you enjoy having a penis in your mouth, you’re playing for the gay team. It doesn’t matter if you played high school football or have a voice like a James Earl Jones. I tend to fall somewhere in the middle. If someone is coming after me with a baseball bat, or a handsome gentleman is tied to my Lazy Boy, I can be as butch as Rosie O’Donnell at a softball tournament. On the other hand, I’ve been known to be a little light in the loafers when I’m imitating Patty Duke’s riveting performance in “Valley of the Dolls”. You have to love the queen who is Nair’d from head to toe underneath his Abercrombie warm-up suit, yet claims he’s only interested in masculine men. What does it matter what my voice sounds like? If your dick is in my mouth, you’re not going to have to listen to me anyway.

HAIR. This one overlaps with the masculine/feminine debate. Why is it that gay guys that identify themselves as “masculine” insist on removing every hair follicle below the neck? But I digress. Countless times, I’ve had a guy totally hot for me until I get my shirt off and he sees a patch of hair around my navel. Apparently, this is completely unacceptable, and perhaps the Allegheny County Health Department should be notified. TowelBoy needs to shuffle over to Rite Aid and get himself a can of Nair before the animal control people come to capture him. And I’m not exactly a “bear” – you could probably count the hairs on my chest. How many of you have had a perfectly delightful blowjob ruined by some dizzy Mary flailing in an exaggerated choking fit over a pubic hair? I can think of one trick in particular who deserved an Emmy for his dramatized asphyxiation. He’s probably still picking hair out of his teeth. I have been harboring this dreadful secret that I can’t contain any longer: I like pubic hair. I think it looks sexy. I don’t mind negotiating around it. I waited 12 years to get it, and I have absolutely no intention of shaving it off. Every male past puberty should have hair on his genitals. And don’t even get me started on the hair on my ass. That’s just the law of nature, Mary. Put your Lady Bic down and get over it.

PARTY & PLAY. For the longest time, I thought when someone asked if I “party”, they planned on serving hors d’oeuvres and doing the chicken dance before we had sex. Apparently, there is no Cheese Whiz at this particular soiree. Someone looking to “party and play” expects you to provide a delicious chemical cocktail with intercourse. Apparently, methamphetamines are the trendy queen’s party favor of choice. TowelBoy has never even smoked a cigarette. And as far as pot, coke, smack, and Tina are concerned, I’ve seen far too many episodes of “Celebrity Rehab” to even consider it. Since you already have Alanis on the line, run this one by her: Most of these “party favors” make it impossible for your brave little soldier to march into battle. And nothing pisses off TowelBoy more than driving through rush hour traffic for a man that can’t get an erection. I’ve encountered countless guys who aren’t willing to meet unless I’m willing to get high. No deal! One would hope that my stout member would be a gentleman caller’s drug of choice. And one additional consideration here: How can you make responsible choices about sex if you’re higher than Lindsay Lohan on the Santa Monica Freeway? Which is the perfect segue for the most shocking qualifier…

BAREBACKING. This entire issue has made me almost give up on sex entirely. As I’ve mentioned in other posts, I do not consider barebacking a fetish. It’s reckless and irresponsible. I would not risk my health and safety for a fantastic fuck from Justin Timberlake. Sex may cloud my judgment on a butt load of issues, but this is never one of them. Yet this is a frightening trend: if I sit and cruise the internet for two hours, I will lose at least three potential hook-ups over barebacking. We exchange pictures, and he likes what he sees. We’re both turned on by a good kisser. His roommate is gone for the evening, and I happen to have a full tank of gas. We’re compatible in every way…except he only likes it bare. I insist on condoms, and he insists on ending the discussion. This is, by far, the most prevalent qualifier in the gay sex arena. Sadly, there are a lot of hot guys out there that won’t even consider meeting you unless you’re willing to declare in advance that you’ll fuck them without a condom. All you have to do is tell him you’re “clean” – he doesn’t even need to know your name. TowelBoy is pleased to inform these guys that the internet is useful for more than finding a hot lay. Just google “safe sex” and see what turns up.

What “qualifiers” have ruined a hot experience for you? I’d love to commiserate. Perhaps we can formulate a plan to quell the qualifier in the name of great sex for all.

Although qualifiers for sex are frustrating nuisances beyond our control, we have total control over deciding who’s qualified to sit in the White House for the next four years. Pennsylvania will play a key role in determining who wins the Democratic nomination. Our next president will face huge challenges in the realms of equality, gay rights, and HIV education, prevention, and treatment. Whether you’re a Democrat, Republican, progressive, liberal, conservative, or in an independent groove, I encourage you to get involved. You must be registered 30 days in advance to participate in Pennsylvania’s primary election, scheduled for April 22. For more information, please visit:

www.RockTheVote.com

After you rock the vote, stop into Club Pittsburgh on Saturday, March 15 to rock the house with porn star Lex Sabre. Showtime is at midnight, and there are absolutely no qualifiers for having a great time. I look forward to seeing you there!

Qualifying for the Gay Sex Special Olympics,
TowelBoy